


Somewhere between eloquent and obscene

by Appleskin



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Dirty Talk, M/M, Pale Porn, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Slurs, cyber pile, idk what else to tag this, kinda tuna gets a little hard on himself for a second there, pale dirty talk, uh, whatever the pale equivalent of cyber sex would be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-06
Updated: 2015-11-06
Packaged: 2018-04-30 08:26:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5156945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Appleskin/pseuds/Appleskin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He doesn't know why you called him. Of course he doesn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Somewhere between eloquent and obscene

The palmhusk rings once. Twice. A third time before there's a click and a quiet, confused sound on the other end. He doesn't know why you called him. Of course he doesn't.

He doesn't make any other noises though. Just sits, silent, waiting. You could hang up right now. He'd ask you later what you called him for, and you love him for that. Latula wouldn't say anything, trying not to hurt you. (And you love _her_ for _that_.) Anybody else would have an asshole comment.

Kurloz can't even fucking talk, but he still assumes you're calling for a reason. Still has enough faith in you for that.

"Hi Kurloz!" You say, and don't try to stop your voice from shaking because it shakes any fucking way and you bet nobody can even tell the difference. You dont sound nervous, you sound fucking brain damaged. Right now, you're fine with that.

He makes another noise. Happy little hum, content to just fucking chill on the line while you babble. Fuck, you could have an actual fucking conversation with him and he'd answer you as best he could and not judge even once. Fuck that stupid mime, you love him and he sucks.

Ok. Yes or no questions. Start simple. "Are you busy?"

He makes a hmm-mm sound. No.

"Are you alooooooone?"

Amused huff, a little confused. Mm-hmm. Yes.

"Sweet. So guess what I was thin-thing-thinking about at the park today with Tula."

Snort, "i dunno" noise. Sound like creaking leather, he's moving around on his couch. Settling in. Getting comfy.

You are so fucking nervous holy shit.

"You." You say, and your voice is steadier than usual because it's half a whisper and that's bullshit so you clear your throat and keep talking because if there's one thing you can be counted on it's not knowing when to shut the fuck up.

"Th-the way you look when you're purring. Your fucking soft ass skin."

He makes another noise, quieter. Little soft interested sound and you know he's surprised and you can work with that. You can. Probably.

"Wanna--" no, too early. Little things. Build suspense.

"Miss you." You say instead, and that's fucking stupid because you saw him yesterday but whatever, just roll with it. "Want-wanna. Be near you. Wanna make you f-feel good."

Your face is on fire. You haven’t really gotten pale like this in a while. It's only happened a couple times since your accident, actually, and it was always him taking care of you. Even back when things were really good between you two, you still never.

Well. You never talked dirty. You never fucking phone-piled him.

You have no fucking clue what made you want to do it now.  
He makes a small hum, little throaty croon, all affectionate and flattered and fuck him, if you let him get all composed he’ll start messaging you line after line of sappy bullshit, he was always so good with his words, and then you’ll be a flustered mess just fucking soaking in the attention with your fingers twisting your own horns like a dumb fucking wiggler and that is not the fucking plan right now.

You want to make _him_ feel like that.

“Want to see you vale-von- _vulnerable_.” You choke a little on that, and this time it’s not because you’re nervous so much as it’s that you really wanna see the thing. Holy shit you want it. “I wanna see, see your face bare. Wanna take your paint off.”

Whoops. So much for suspense. He gasps a little at that, and makes a questioning sound in his nose, all “Where hast thine motherfucking forwardness come from?”

Fuck it. Fine. Steamroller this shit. You were never known for subtlety anyway.

“I wanna take the softest col-cloth I can find and wipe your makeup off.” You say, and yeah, ok, you’re breathless. Saying this shit is really fucking hard, wow. “I wanna see your skin show through in, in pretty little gray streaks until your whole pace-face is open and exp-posed. I wanna see your cheeks all purple and fucking pesh-precious. I wanna kiss, kiss your blush.”

He fucking chokes. You hear it. His breath catches wrong and comes out harsh and shaking and what-the-fuck-Mituna. Sharp exhale like all the air in him got stuck between his lungs and his stitches and he has to cough it out. You’ve only seen him clown naked once since your brain blew up. It was fucking stupid to assume that was just a coincidence.

Welp. Looks like this was a bad idea.

“Sorry.” You say, too quick while he’s still panting on the other line. “Sor-sorry, that was. That was dumb, I’m, i’m sorry.”

He cuts you off with… with a sound. It doesn’t seem like an angry sound, or an annoyed one. It's a high sound, soft at the edges. Lilting and sweet in his throat.

Holy shit he just fucking whimpered.

“You, do you want that?” You splutter, and he makes another broken little wanting sound and there’s moving, cloth and leather and zippers being pulled, the dull thud of his boots on the ground. He’s laying down, he always takes his shoes off before putting his feet up, he’s so fucking ready for you to keep talking.

You are a fucking diamond mine. Look at all this pale. Booyah, motherfuckers.

“You want, you want me to take care of you? Want me to clean your face?”

He whines. Are. Are you teasing him right now?

Fuck yeah you are. You are the biggest fucking pile tease. Look at you.

“I wanna stick you in an absolution. Ablutions trap. I wanna wash your hair.” You’re whispering again but it feels ok this time, less fear, more… what. Fuck, setting the mood? Sure. Call it that. Just keep talking. “I wanna see you go all loose and can-content in the warm water. I wanna make you feel so fucking safe.”

He whines again, beautiful goddamn surrender-sound and you’ve gotta do the thing sometime soon. Everything you’re saying, everything you’re talking about. You need to make him make more sounds like that. You need to _never fucking stop_.

“I’ll use the fancy fucking sat-salt stuff that smells like, like flowers and shit. Light some candles. Clean your face. Wash your hair and rub your sold-shoulders and, and take c-care of your stitches. I’d want them out. Want to kiss you without, without them in the way.”

He’s breathing heavier, needy.

You are too. You did not think this shit through. Wow it feels like you’re fucking choking on it, you love him so much. There’s a warmth in your chest and its stabbing you, the sharp diamond-edge of that warmth, it’s working its way up past your aeration sacks to stab you in the throat and your eyes are watering at the ache of it.

You wonder if he loves you as much as you love him. You wonder if anybody has ever loved anyone as much as you love him.

“When you’re all ken-clean we can drain the trap and I’ll, I’ll dry you off with a soft toe-to-fuck, _towel_ , and you can wear my shirt. The big one with, with the stripes. It's the only one that fits you. And then I’ll, I’ll lay you down on the pile and, and talk to you just like this. Just sit there and take-talk, fuck. Talk and talk and talk until you’re pretty purple all over and your ears are fick-flicking and you try to hide your face but I won’t let you. I’ll pin your hands down with my sparks and make you lie still. Lie there and listen. I’ll tell you how fucking perfect you are. How smart and strong and nice to look at. So ham-handsome. So brave. I love you, Kurloz. Meulin loves you. I love you.

And then when you’re sake-shaking and crying I’ll kiss you, kiss your tears. Touch your horns. I’ll touch them real careful so you get, get all hazy and feel good. I’ll touch your little fins. I know you like that. I’ll be jem-gentle. My hands are gonna feel so warm on your skin. You, you’re so cold and I'm so warm. I'll trace my fingertips over your little fins and your dumb gills. Touch you all over. Make you feel good and safe and fucking loved. _Cherished_. I wanna hold you so fucking tight. Wanna know every inch of you."

He lets out a high, reedy-thin fucking keen, and then there's shuffling and thumping and... the line goes dead.

He hung up.

You stare at your palmhusk and wonder what it was you said wrong. He didn't get angry at the paint thing, so what? What did you fuck up? God you're so stupid, stupid stupid _fucking stupid_!

Your eyes burn, your throat feels tight. God. You're such a shitty retarded moron, what the fuck! Why can't you fucking ever get anything ri-

Your palmhusk beeps. Its Kurloz.

 

Motherfucker IM SO KEYED UP RIGHT NOW.

Tell me I can get my ass over there to see you.

TELL ME THIS SHIT WASN'T JUST YOU TEASING

Think a brother might lose his goddamn mind if I can't be close to you RIGHT THE FUCK NOW.

My hands are fucking shaking tuna please

I NEED YOU <>

 

Oh. OH.

 _Booyah_ , bitches.

 

You send back "I'm waiting" and a diamond of your own and then you start wrestling with your suit. You need an ablution. You should try to clean up. You should have a pile already made before he gets here and be chilling on it all comfy and shit. Fuck, that’d be smooth as shit.

This is gonna be a hell of a night.

**Author's Note:**

> Want more pale trash? Send me a request http://thisisallthehattersfault.tumblr.com/


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